Lingering
by Yukihapax
Summary: After a raging STORM, Sanji reflects on the ROUGH Zoro. On the other hand, Zoro thinks of Sanji as a rare FOUDRE, and while the SPARKLE of something radiates from them, they WORDLESSLY get close, LINGERING onto each other's eyes *ZoSan*
1. 1-Storm

**Disclaimers: **_I do not own OP's characters and this is only a silly old entertainment __form _of mine. 

**Summary:** After a raging STORM, Sanji reflects on the ROUGH Zoro. On the other hand, Zoro thinks of Sanji as a rare _FOUDRE_, and while the SPARKLE of something radiates from them, they WORDLESSLY get close, LINGERING onto each other's eyes.

**Notes:** I have a strange feeling about it. I've been thinking about this story for a while but I never dared to write it down... It's all so vivid in my imagination that I feared of losing the grip of it. The less I expressed emotions, the more I sensed them in a powerful way inside me. I hope not to waste your time and my inspiration.

**Warning**: I'm not a native English-speaker and I'd like to know if something is misspelled or incorrect. Feel free to express your own emotions or thoughts: comments and ideas are well accepted. I hope you'll enjoy.  
_Yuki_

* * *

**1. Storm**

Plumes of black smoke roll over the circles of the leaden sky while the surface of the sea is rippled by an icy, sharp breeze

A storm is coming and the electricity is dancing in the quiet but full atmosphere.

On a solitary corner of the rough waves floats a certain Sunny-ship, the swinging bow almost touching the moving water and the sails swollen with the engulfing wind.

On the double-decker of the ship there are six colorful figures standing.

The biggest is handing the helm with a strong and_ not-very-human _grip, frowning in concentration; on his right a redheaded girl, checking fervently a strange bracelet, is shouting orders about the route. A straw-hatted boy, arms intertwined, is silently watching the scene while a little blue-nosed reindeer grasps his bare calf and a huge, _afro-ish_ skeleton walks back and forth towards them.

A tall dark-haired woman, crossing her arms, conjures a hand on the top of the foremast.

The fake fingers caress the air and the woman says:

- Nami, now the wind is really raging!-

- I know – nods the bracelet-girl – We'd better be in the lower-deck soon…-

She glances at the closing sails with the corner of her eye and suddenly a long-nosed boy comes running from the deck.

- Almost set! They're tangling the sails! - he shouts, panting.

A sudden flash and then, into the distance, the crackling sound of an ignominious thunder strike loudly.

The long-nosed boy and the reindeer jump in their feet and cry.

A thin curtain of rain starts to pour all over them.

On the grassed deck, a black-suited young man gives the last check to some knots, then he rushes back to reach the rest of his crewmates.

The sky is almost purple-black and the hard rain drips violently on the wood of the ship.

The black-suited guy tosses away his burnt and useless cigarette and speeds up his pace…in that very moment a lightning fills the air all around him and he stops, the thunder rumbling louder than ever.

In the blinding flash he gets the hypnotic glimpse of a very fast silhouette flying down the foremast stays.

The green-haired young man lands just near him with a hefty thud, lifts his bandanna-covered head and glares back:

- Move on, shitty cook!-

The so-called shitty cook jolts (like he was temporarily lost in his thoughts) and resumes his running, followed closely by the other.

They fly across the grassed deck and reach their crew mates.

- Sanji! Zoro! – calls the little reindeer, the fur already soaking wet.

The straw-hatted boy grins at the sight of his first mate and his cook.

- Quick! – says the dark-haired woman – Let's go or we'll get drenched!-

She picks up the reindeer and hurries back to the lower-deck, followed by the long-nosed boy, who seems scared than ever.

- Yo, Luffy-bro! – exclaims the _not-very-human_ guy at the helm – How about going indoor?-

- Follow me, my Captain – starts the tall skeleton, strolling away from the double-decker – we'll share a beautiful song about stormy nights in the seas!-

- Shishishishi – sneers the boy, patting his straw hat. He turns around for a brief moment, looking at his first mate and his cook. They grin back. Then he looks at the girl, his navigator, and his eyes soften a little.

- Nami-swan! – says the cook aloud, with a sugary voice – Go with the others, I'm serving hot tea soon!-

The girl hesitates, casting a glimpse to her strange bracelet.

- We'll stay here and check. Go. - states the muscular green-haired young man, like he's not used to be contradicted.

The girl nods and speaks:

- Keep this way, Franky, don't let the tidal currents break our route!-

She then smiles and runs away with her rubber Captain and the afro-skeleton musician.

Another lightning, another thunder, everything trembles and they're practically bathing in the rain.

The storm begins to roar and the (_not-very-human_) man grabs the helm better, laughing:

- Suuuuuuupeeeeerrrr-stoooorm!- he cries.

- Fufufufufu…- the black-suited cook chuckles at his companion.

Ignoring the water pouring down, he takes the lighter and lights up another cigarette, blowing away a lazy gray puff.

He turns a little his head to shoot a look at his other left .

And then he quivers, impressed for some unnameable reason by something he can't really figure out.

The green-haired man is soaking wet but he's staring into the darkening mass of clouds, his eyes sparkling fiercely on the mute mask of his face.

He smirks, mysterious thoughts going on his mind, the right hand beautifully rested on his three swords hilts.

It's like he's actually enjoying the violence of the raging storm…

The cook turns away from him and shakes a little, cursing silently the rain that is now wetting his beloved black suit.

They're now in the heart of the storm but the ropes are all tied around the sails and the ship is well ready to face it.

* * *

Well...I'm actually writing it, even if I feel like I need an "introspective" tag as a genre. Why is it missing?!

Anyway, the idea is almost finished in my mind, I'm just a bit refining the whole thing.

I don't think it will take a lot of time but right now I'm writing the most important thing of my school career so I suppose I'll have to calm down a little.

Paws-crossed, I wish you very good luck and I thank you for your courtesy and your reading.

*BOWS*

bye bye.


	2. 2-Rough

**2. Rough**

The _Mugiwaras_ were happily enjoying their after-storm rest, having a (very dry) music/snack time all together, on the couch and at the table in the kitchen.

The galley door opened and Sanji automatically glanced up, risking the disaster with the cherry topping of his dessert.

_Shit!_ He thought, catching the red droplets in time.

He had recognized the curiously faint steps at once.

The blond-headed felt the familiar sensation at the base of his neck: a bubbling shiver went through his skin. It was soft and distant, for he managed to keep it so, pretending about it like he had been doing for a long time.

_Since when, coward?_ - His third (or fourth) inner-self asked him – _Will you keep ignoring the fact that you're ignoring, dumbass?_

Sanji shook his head lightly, like he was trying to hush some kind of unwanted inner awkwardness.

Zoro languidly entered, in a casual solemn strut, the right hand as usual on his swords, the left busy with a towel on his hair.

Sanji impulsively thought of a wild, rare animal.

Almost a kingly creature.

Catlike.

Zoro reached out for a chair and took place amongst his comrades.

While laughing at the last Franky and Brooke's silly song, he sneezed loudly, crushing his elbow on the chair back.

He cursed, muttering between tight lips.

Surely moronic.

Big, idiotic _marimo._

_A green dull tiger, uh?_

Sanji chortled, choosing different tea blends for each of his crew mate cups and thinking hard of a leaf-colored dozing tiger.

His face began to show a faint smile.

- Oi, perv-cook, what's so fun? - asked Zoro, in a rather flat tone.

He was now standing in front of the kitchen counter, rubbing absent-mindedly his elbow.

- Uh…- said Sanji, caught off guard.

Zoro stared and they shared an odd second of silence, then he went away, aiming for the pantry with his empty mug ready to be filled.

- Sanji-kuuuun! – chirped Nami from the couch – Is the tea ready?-

- Cooooomin' Nami-swaaaan!-

The cook seized the enormous tea-tray with a hand, and with the other grabbed the one with his precious _Cerise Caramel Mou._

- That seems delicious, cook-san- smiled Robin.

- Ahhh, Robin-chwaaaan! This is my _Cerise Caramel Mou_!-

The crew gathered and began sharing the tea and the dessert, amazed by the rich and full taste of Sanji's _cuisine_.

Zoro came back with his mug and a brand new _sake_ bottle.

He took place in his seat, not asking for the dessert or the tea, and rested his eyes on the busy cook.

Sanji did notice those eyes on his side but didn't say anything and, after finishing with the others, offered Zoro his sweet portion of food.

- I don't like cherry fudge. - he snorted, looking away and taking a sip from the mug.

Sanji felt the desire to smash that expressionless _marimo_ face.

Nobody _EVER_ refused his delicious recipes!

Why was the shit-face always so stubbornly rejecting his sweet, delicious dishes?

- It's _Cerise Caramel Mou_, you ruddy ape! - snorted the blond, slightly upset.

- Whatever… - grumbled the swordsman, taking abruptly the dessert he was being offered.

They lingered their eyes once more in a mutual gaze.

This was getting ridiculous already...!

Zoro began gulping the cherry fudge and Sanji jolted away.

He seated on the couch, near his Nami-swan, and he kept aside from the others, paying no attention to Brooke and following his floating, blurry concerns.

He could surely keep maintaining his _façade_ with the rest of the world, but he was not entirely sure this was healthy for his mind.

He daily struggled confusedly with his own voices, silently arguing to let the truth slip away or to bury it with all the consequences.

His fears, his doubts, his assumed general incompetence: all was assailing him in the deep torment of a battle in which he was always the only loser.

And the most astonishing thing was the main reason of this internal earthquake.

That seaweed asshole, the one with a silly moss-ball on his head…!

Idiot, heavy drinker, no sense of direction…a brute who only knew about snoring, eating, training.

_Nothing new…_ thought Sanji…_And what else?_

Sighing discreetly, he casted his unnoticed discreet look over the silent swordsman, now stroking gently Chopper's sleepy head. Zoro yawned, rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand.

That numbskull, big and strong, bloodthirsty…and still so tender when it came to the little reindeer!

Things like these just blew Sanji's mind out: who really was this strange person, still he didn't know, in spite of the years spent together.

And like his own brain wouldn't cooperate with reality, the more he didn't understand him, the more his interest grew.

It had always been this way.

The swordsman was a riddle and this had intrigued Sanji from the very beginning.

With his enormous, growing concern, his curiosity enlarged with time in a strong, quiet motion that he had never witnessed for any other woman (nor men, obviously).

And now he had even started to pay attention to little things, the hidden proofs of the person living in that antisocial body. Sanji was partially aware that this took up an embarrassing amount of his inner life, but most of the time he choose not to admit it.

His self naturally lingered on Zoro, and the situation eventually went off track.

Sanji slowly finished his hot tea, while the afternoon slipped by and the crew scattered across the ship rooms, everyone in a strange after-rain lazy mood.

Robin and Nami went to the girl's quarter, Luffy and Brooke went to the aquarium to enjoy some more music tales, with Franky and Usopp listening and dozing off.

Sanji looked around the empty kitchen and stood up, collecting the cups back and bringing them to the sink.

The water began to run and then he noticed the stupid _marimo_ snoring on the couch, Chopper dreamily curled up in his lap.

The cook shook his head, snapped his tongue and took care of the dishes.

He felt a mixed up sense of recklessness boiling up under his skin.

He wasn't sure, but the presence of the swordsman on that couch, paradoxically helpless, had a hypnotic power on his senses.

(Another soaped cup, another painful sigh).

Sanji didn't recall the precise moment when all this mess drained up his attention.

He only knew that he had a strong, clear feeling for that useless fucking imbecile and that he actually didn't know how to coexist with it.

Sanji started mopping the countertop surface, the flatware all well-ordered and tidy.

The blonde lit up a cigarette and slowly flavored the tobacco taste of it.

On the other side of the room, Zoro snorted and leaned on the couch, rolling with Chopper on top.

Sanji smoked observing the whole scene: Zoro could be so carefree and simple, sometimes…

And so, maybe for the strange mood the storm had set up all over the place, he really felt something brightening up in his chest.

Like sometimes he could stop lying himself and linger into the truth.

The swordsman was none of an ordinary man, after all.

The cook especially loved his stern look, out of his age, like he had everything under his control.

It could be easily mistaken for the arrogance of an attention-seeking weirdo, but the thing was – and Sanji knew it with all of his heart – that the man was a real _bushido,_ with that honor thing and all the rest.

A glorious and fierce spirit.

He was simple and pure, in his own way, guided by high, untouchable principles.

A war machine with a perfect body, a warrior soul in a lucid mind.

The green-haired was capable of incredible things and still his aura, so dark and intimidating during a battle, could be so chilled and enjoyable in everyday life.

He was strong, uncompromising and exceptionally willing to die not only for his own dream, but for the entire sake of his mates' dreams.

It wasn't the hero-complex, it was a pure self-denial spirit.

And Thriller Bark surely had helped to open Sanji's eyes about this.

The cook never felt so inadequate and so incapable of keeping up with him…

Zoro's sacrifice had forced him to see his own real reflection in the mirror and Sanji didn't like it: it showed a weakling, a pretending person and a liar.

How could he protect the others with his poor strength?

How could he be proud of his own actions?

He had his dream, nothing to say, but it was so vague, sometimes, so far away if compared to his companions' goals.

Was it really worth it?

And what if, inside him, Sanji had started to feel a total inept?

How could he fight?

How could a person live with the awareness of his fears?

Had he ever managed, at least, to face them?

And to think the he was now so used to cover up his real feelings that he no longer knew which his real dispositions were!

What behaviors were meant to be right, which of them came from people's expectation, which were low compromises, which expressed his true self…

Nonetheless he was standing in his kitchen, smoking, and watching a man who simply didn't care about those mind games.

Because Zoro was simply and uncannily Zoro.

He was his true self, Sanji could bet on it, as real as he could see him, with no fakes or scandalous secrets.

Maybe he wasn't exactly the epitome of the human relationships, but he was determined not to be anybody than himself and this was priceless.

He believed in himself, one could tell it from each of his tiny actions.

And the difference, in Sanji's eyes, between this dedication and his own personal failure was absolutely unbearable.

Zoro rolled over the couch again, clutching Chopper instinctively, not to let the little one fall down.

So protective…the cook smiled lazily to himself.

It was not only his integrity.

Sanji was definitely attracted to him in all of his manifestations.

He was indeed a readable person, delightfully predictable, stubborn and funny in his own ways.

Sometimes even cute…

_Cute, ah…!_

_It was missing from my personal moronic list of the reasons why I fell for this…this…_

The snore suddenly crackled in the room, and Sanji startled.

…_what a fucking noisy moron! He pisses me off! Dumb marimo asshole…_

Sanji felt a distinct wave of fire burning him up.

Sometimes, just like it was happening in that moment, he felt this deep rage towards Zoro.

Something devouring him in the flesh and that usually resolved itself in their constant craving for sparring and clashing.

And this was exactly the way his considerations usually led him to the worst part of the whole matter…

The physical part of their argument was what he really seemed to seek above all.

He simply _loved_ it.

All lies were rather useless in front of this ridiculously enormous truth.

The cook _FELT_ the swordsman body.

His dark, smooth, sea-scented skin…

Sanji could perceive the high temperature of his guts every time he approached Zoro in a too scrappy way.

And it had not taken so long, back then, to understand the meaning of his need to kick the swordsman's ass.

_Sexual frustration_…recalled in the back of his mind.

So obvious, so simple.

Who knows if someone of the other Mugiwaras was aware like he was now?!

He didn't care at all. He just couldn't deny it: he desired Zoro's heart and soul.

Just like that time they saw each other after two years of separation.

Taller, manlier, that serious expression, the bold smirk.

And obviously his gorgeous appearance…

The sight of him kicked his stomach, churned it and destroyed it, his skin prickling and his mouth drying.

And while they were going to reunite with the others, he couldn't suppress his damned excitement.

He had behaved like a despicable woman in heat, casting quick glances to Zoro's marble back and toned ass.

Without shame or guilt!

This seemed unacceptable, even now.

Sanji flushed a little and nervously lit up another cigarette.

He felt consciously aroused now, just thinking about a stupid memory.

And watching the silly _marimo_ unceremoniously spread on the couch, he had actually to suppress his hot needs.

_Rude swords-Ape!_

He hated him because he was, amongst all the things his eyes had ever rested his glance upon, the most wanted one.

And now he found himself shaking with pure longing, as it had been happening for a while.

Zoro's hands caught his attention, again rested on Chopper's head.

They were tanned, big and rough.

He could easily imagine their crude and gruff touch over his own white skin…touching, stroking, exploring.

And then he started thinking about the taste of the skin on his powerful neck, on his trained chest and on his chiseled abdomen…

Sanji bent a little forward with a jerk, his arousal now strongly fighting in his pants.

He forced himself to wake up from this torturing daydreaming, almost shaking in the struggle.

Then he lit up his cigarette and flew away from the galley, willing to find the shameful and brief relief of his hand.

* * *

Everyone has his own desires, I suppose.

Poor lovesick Sanji.

I know, I like "traditional" things in this kind of pairing.

Maybe 'cause I don't want to betray my own imaginary.

Or maybe I lack imagination...

However...hope you enjoyed it!

*BOWS*  
Thanks and bye!

Yuki


	3. 3-Foudre

The tempest had been violent and windy but the _Mugiwaras_ were no rookies in the sea, so the ship had quickly escaped from the danger and now was sliding into calmer tides.

Zoro caught a glimpse of the violet clouds in the distance: flashes in the dark waters could still be seen from his spot.

The green headed man seated straight on the grassy deck, enjoying the peaceful mood, the others all resting or taking shelter from the cold air.

He closed his eyes and breathed rhythmically in and out, switching to his customary spiritual meditation mode.

Actually, the one he preferred the most.

No rackets, no useless words with equally useless people, no distractions…

He began to lose his body-centered perception and quickly he started to sense only his own spiritual presence, his swords' one and many other things palpitating like the sky, the ocean, the sea-creatures…

After his two years with Mihawk, his senses sure had sharpened and now he could have a deeper perception of what was going on around him.

He breathed in and out again.

_Crzzz…crzzzz…_creaked Nami's pen over the parchment.

_Pleeeeonn Pleeeonnn_…trembled Brooke's acoustic guitar G string.

But these and all the other noises soon faded, and the strong but gentle beat of sea-waves overwhelmed everything.

It was exactly what Zoro was looking for, the reason of his meditation.

That one very ancestral throb that kept everything together.

He hoped, in his remote thoughts, that it could be able to cure his unprovoked impatience.  
Feeling the moment, from his right side he slowly unsheathed the beloved Wado.

He held the sword in front of him, as perfect as a stone statue and still relaxed as he was sleeping.

Zoro questioned Wado's soul, as he was used to do when there was something going on.

He saw the blade glistening with his inner eyes.

_Fear not your true emotions, _sentenced the sword and seemed not to have anything else to say.

The thwarted swordsman suddenly felt his body again and his concentration slowly evaporated.

A cold and unpleasant breeze revealed itself against Zoro's body.

Wado still grabbed in front of him and eyes still shut, Zoro's insisted on his meditation, even if he was too self-aware to continue.

His disappointed brow twitched.

This was no good.

Something was really interfering with his normal life.

He had kept behaving like his normal, detached self, for this was his innermost nature, but now he had had enough of his strange and electrified mood.

Maybe due to the storm, maybe due to dead calm period they were strangely passing by…

_…Yeah, it must be so. No giant mermaids, no crazy undead scenarios, no suspicious cross-dressed guys nor any devil fruit user…_ thought Zoro.

Yes, no strangeness indeed.

And still, out of the thin air, he could feel his body yearning for some action.

He couldn't deny his constant recklessness, so earnest was the guy.

He never lied and so he had to admit that his training session were unsatisfying.

Was this a new challenge?

He was note one who refused a duel, especially when he had to deal with his own tenacious self.

But still he had no clue about the haste haunting his muscles and the carelessness lingering in his limbs.

Like he _had to move,_ no matter what; like he _had to lack attention_ and act hurriedly.

This wasn't healthy at all for a swordsman set of mind and at least Zoro knew it.

_Taclack/taclack/taclack…_A silly syncopated clattering trail caused the explosion of his concentration in little angry and fidgety pieces.

_Taclack/taclack/taclack…_He could clearly visualize a certain pair of pale hands holding a vegetable and cutting it at fast speed.

He almost growled to himself, his temples now furrowing and shuddering.

_That dumbfuck eyebrow freak again!_

And thinking so, his calmness eventually faded away, leaving him shaking and irritated.

By now completely awake, Zoro sheathed Wado and sighed, rolling his eyes.

The irritant cook kept popping in his daily thoughts, mainly when he least expected it.

Whenever he was testing his concentration skills or was napping on the deck, those stupid eyebrows darted in his mind as a flash, leaving him really annoyed.

_What the hell?!_

Zoro had always prided himself with his frank attitude and now the vibrant sensation of something obscuring his judgment seemed unacceptable.

Definitely, there was something creepy going on…but how was he meant to deal with a mysterious matter?

_Booze!_

Yes, he had to refresh himself with something strong.

A good bottle this time, not the usual trash that crappy-cook

(_Aaaaaand…here he was, again…!Damned him…_)

let him drink.

He stood up and went to the galley, confident with his resolution in solving his murky conundrum.

/||||\\\\\

The galley was dark and filled with stewed aromas.

And, obviously, there was that familiar feeble trail of cigarette smoke.

The cook was silently arranging the dinner and did not turn to check who was disturbing his inviolable activity.

Zoro closed the door and mechanically recorded this as an odd thing.

The idiot wasn't directing him the usual and funny blasphemies and wasn't even dancing

(_oh, really Zoro?-_ he distractedly thought – _And exactly why are you conscious of this peculiar cook's habit_?)

like he always did, mumbling songs or whistling a bit.

(_Oh, you sure had spent quite the time watching him, hadn't you, uh? Yes, yes, dancing with a slight hip shaking…)_

Zoro felt the familiar nervous anger devouring his stomach, fuzzy thoughts flowing like an uncontrolled stream in his mind.

He had to ask for the _sake_, and he had to do it soon, too!

(_Nonsense, nonsense, you really should keep observing his moves, you know you like it when…_)

- Oi, crap-cook…- he began, without the usual conviction.

Sanji didn't turn around at all.

(_…when he is so absent-mindedly chip-chopping food-ohi-ohi_! _'Cause it's for you; even for the others but for you too…_)

Zoro shook the head a little, very upset about those childish, nasty little voices.

Sanji finally showed he knew someone had arrived:

- I'm busy, _marimo_ – he said with a strange, low voice – what do you want?-

(_Have you ever realized he's the only person who ever cared about your meals?)_

- Booze. A good one.- replied him briskly.

- The occasion, if I may ask?- asked, still showing Zoro only his busy shoulders.

(_When this jerk dances and cook, you know, there's something… there's something…_)

- None of your business.-

- Wrong answer.- said Sanji tonelessly.

(_Why don't you say it aloud? This shithead makes your nerves explode!)_

- I said, wrong answer!- repeated Sanji, a bit more menacing.

(_Ah, what a shitty, shitty cook! So intimidating in his frilly apron, uh?)_

_- _'Have to think.- answered Zoro, hating his own random opinions and fighting not to let them skip onto the surface.

(_Oh, so you don't want me to ruin the magic of the moment, do you? Well, this is a polite conversation, the one you're having with the fancy asshole, dude. Pretty interesting…)_

Sanji dropped his knife for a second.

Zoro thought maybe some hints of his shaky state had slipped from his voice.

The cook disappeared into the pantry and soon came back with a green-labeled white bottle.

- This is the best I have here.- stated, handing him the alcohol and a mug but totally avoiding the eye-contact.

(_And still he's not looking at you, the bastard…!_)

Zoro thought about it again: very odd of him not to look down with the familiar look of flaunted superiority.

(_Shit, look at me, you eyebrow-shithole!)_

Zoro felt again the unknown rage coming from his guts.

His temper was boiling

(_I don't recognize you anymore, man! So bothered by this bastard…! Is it a matter of pride? Is it a matter of consideration?_)

and the fact that he didn't know why actually was getting things worst.

(_Uh,uh! Again non-sense! Isn't it_ _maddening? Maddening, maddening , maddening …_)

He grasped the bottle and the mug but exactly in the moment he was turning to go away, Sanji said:

- You can stay.-

(_…maddening, maddening…FROZEN._)

Zoro stopped at mid-course, struck, eyebrows lifted.

- I don't mind.- repeated the cook, still busy with his recipes,

(_uh…uh…uhuh…weiiird indeed) _

still not interested in insulting him.

(_th…the he-ll…_)

But, in spite of his hesitation, for some reason Zoro sat back and helped himself with a generous gulp of _sake._

(_the hell of a day, today…shit…)_

The swordsman drank and stayed there for countless minutes, his eyes shamelessly permanent on Sanji's back.

_(…a bit narrow, quite a slim figure…_)

He clapped his hand on his own face.

(_Am I going again too far here, man? Better come back to the dancing hips…_)

- What's the bother?- questioned Sanji, out of the blue.

Zoro shrugged.

(_oh, god, is this really one of those crappy confidential conversations…?)_

_-_ Nah…nothin'-

The cook's hands were now applying molten cheese decoration on grilled zucchini.

(_His talent…priceless…those skillful hands…_)

- It seems more than nothing…-

Zoro gulped down his _sake _and did not answer back.

And soon Sanji seemed back to his usual self:

- Oi, fucktard, I'm trying to help you, in case you didn't notice…!-

(_At least now you know this is the real cook_…)

- I don't remember asking it…- said Zoro, feeling vaguely guilty.

- Fuck you.-

(…_sorry…)_

- I said it's ok, you damned crap-cook!-

(_good, let's hope he knows this is your way to say "thank you"…_)

- Ape.-

But Zoro didn't retort and soon they returned to their discreet non-conversational sharing.

And the swordsman felt lighter, all at once.

So, where had his famed _Bushido_ straightforwardness gone?

/||||\\\\\

Zoro had spent the last thirty minutes in the silent kitchen, watching the blonde cooking.

It was almost hypnotic.

His too-conscious thoughts kept biting his mood, but he felt somehow relieved in that peaceful atmosphere.

No sparring (even if Zoro's hands were a bit itchy), no criticizing, no awful words…

Just the two of them.

And, again, something different…

…Closeness, maybe?

He didn't know but he relaxed, following Wado's advice and trying to be frank with him.

There really was anything wrong with him.

His anger was a curtain, now he could see it, and his restlessness was a mere deception.

He leaned a bit over the kitchen counter, resting his head on the elbow and trying to capture better Sanji's figure, without realizing it.

The cook stiffened than moved a little, as he was aware of Zoro's motions.

- What you're looking at, _marimo_?- he said, sounding a little uncomfortable.

Zoro smirked… the cook was really affected by his presence!

This gave him a strange sensation, like pleasure mixed with annoyance.

- Nah…nothing interesting. Just a crappy cook doing his sloppy job…-

Sanji was gently pressing the roasted meat with a fork to check its tenderness, and the heat of the oven packed the room.

- Fuckoff.- he snapped, closing the oven and tossing the fork in the dirty sink.

Smiling again, Zoro started to think, lullabied by his own dreamy comfort.

Why was he so nervous around the blonde, lately?

Why was the jerk so able to puzzle him?

Above all, why did the cook seem the source of his illness and, at the same time, its remedy?

When the cook wasn't around, he felt that horrible impatience devouring him, while when he was near him the impulse seemed to set up a little.

But was this really everything?

The thing, in fact, was deeper…

It was not the cook tangible presence that bothered Zoro.  
The swordsman did feel upset every time his _Nakama_, even if in his presence, didn't display interest or consideration for him.

Like when the guy ignored him or didn't have the time to dawdle in their fights.

Like when he made all that annoying fuss about the ladies and did not worry to ask him if his _sake_ was good enough.

So, inside the enigma, he saw that he was upset only because of the idiot physical absence whenever his mind was, on the contrary, filled with his presence.

A distracting, interfering and provoking interest.

Quite the picture he had now, hadn't he?

Sanji was not a conventional person, Zoro had to admit it: the dartboard-eyebrow had something that made the difference.

First of all, had he ever noticed how the cook was always so caring?

Maybe because he was in charge of something so delicate and fundamental such as his _nakamas_ alimentation…maybe because he really was the considerate type, after all…

He had a task and he took it with gravity and responsibility.

Sanji's austerity in the duty was impeccable: he focused on the trivial part (the importance of nutrition) without forgetting to express his own self in it (showing real talent).

Now, this was something someone like Zoro could actually praise a lot.

As a fighter, Zoro knew that every tiny gesture and every supposed disposition were the meeting point of sacrifice, strength, self-expression and life-meaning.

For both a sword fight and a cooking session held a ceremonial meaning not easily readable by an outsider.

They expressed one's true-self and bear an indelible mark.

This was the higher archetype of art skills Zoro could imagine.

And he didn't have to search in the pits of his convictions to find his firm and true respect for the cook's mission.

Because he really didn't have anything against him.

They were rivals, sure, but they sparred only to confront their own powers and sometimes as a result of their arguing.

It was simply their way; Zoro had always felt comfortable in this twisted scheme of behaving.

Yes, the cook absolutely had the power to upset him in a unique way and yes, he surely was revolting when he was all heart-eyed and idiotic…

But the two of them did not know hatred.

His exhibition of retardness was one of Sanji's unintentional patterns, Zoro supposed, the one he had chosen for that specific situation.

Because now, no one around, he was silent and concentrated on his rich salad, almost pleasant while using his cook's magic talent.

That kind of magic that was not crappy at all: Zoro called him that way to tease him, to catch his attention.

In fact, he really loved Sanji's food and inside him was satisfied with Luffy's choice…the Captain never seemed to fail his _nakamas_ selection.

And the swordsman now was finding himself even grateful to his rubber meat-mad pal, for he had Sanji in that galley, cooking his very dinner.

Zoro chuckled, discovering that he couldn't help but feeling something like…_happiness…_

He liked their…their subtle connection, the way they were always so close by, even without words, even without looking each other.

Zoro wasn't sure about where his thoughts were leading him, his mind torn between the fear of getting close to the cook and the desire of actually doing it.

He simply wasn't used to people, and in its deepest part he knew it was because something had missed in his whole existence.

Zoro had practically spent half of his life alone, always doubting and expecting the worst, until he had met Luffy and his other _nakamas_.

He had never changed his resolution about his ultimate goal, but now he had crew mates.

They were his friend, his family, protecting and having care of each other without restraint.

This was his new strength, the one he had missed when he was younger, pierced by Kuina's death.

And watching the cook busy with another delicious meal, he thought of him as his family too.

This untightened a little the knot on the depth of his stomach.

He felt his head lighter.

So _sake _had helped, after all…

Or maybe the cook silent presence had made the difference this time.

Once in a while he could admit it!

At that very moment, Sanji turned from the kitchen stove and offered him a plate.

He eventually looked directly into Zoro's eyes.

Zoro immediately flushed a little, caught off-guard.

- Snacks.- said Sanji, no cigarette hanging from the thin lips.

Zoro saw Sanji's blue eyes flickering a little, almost hesitating on his own gaze.

He didn't expect the cook to be so near so soon, so he gulped down another bit of sake and said:

- Uh…thanks.-

- Yeah, you better not to be drunk at dinner…-

And they turned away their eyes almost at once.

While Sanji started doing the dishwashing, Zoro stared at the tasty little tarts the blonde had given him, feeling his cheeks still burning.

Then his eyes went wide open at the sublime taste of Sanji's treat.

- Oh…- he let slip something like an appreciation moaning.

Sanji turned and sneered:

- So, _marimo_, it seems not crappy at all…-

Zoro looked intensely at him, chewing very slowly.

- This is delicious…- he said, to Sanji's greatest surprise.

The cook displayed his astonishment and asked:

- Why all the lying, then, you third-rate swordsman?-

Zoro emptied the plate and handed it to Sanji.

- 'Cause it's fun!- stated, piercing again the cook with his open gaze.

- And 'cause you never cooked only for **ME**.- finished the green-haired, stressing the word.

Then Zoro witnessed a very odd thing.

The galley was a bit dark, so he didn't trust his right eye alone, but he thought he saw Sanji became as red as a tomato.

The blonde didn't manage to turn away or anything, cutely showing his embarrassed state.

He lit up a cigarette, puffed out the smoke and looked intensely in Zoro's eyes, the curly eyebrow frowning and the left hand running through his hair.

- You, son of a bitch!- he muttered, slowly.

And in that very moment, his eyes fixed upon him, Zoro felt thunderstruck.

A jolt, an invisible bolt, crossed his body and spread his chest in an insane, warm sweetness.

He opened his eyes wide for a moment then blinked them furiously.

What he only knew, seconds later, was that he couldn't take his eyes off of Sanji anymore.

* * *

Ehi, Hi there! Ok…only some random thoughts…

Well, I really enjoyed this "Zoro's in love" pov!

I saw the scene first, in my mind, and then I tried to make it real.

I know I'm not a fast updater but I'm a bit too busy and I don't like rushing things.

Thanks to the ones who appreciated my story, really.

*bows*

See you!

yuki

p.s.: "_Foudre_" is a French word for "thunderbolt". I just love the sound of it.


	4. 4-Roughfoudre REPRISE

**4. Rough****_-Foudre _****REPRISE******

* * *

Sanji's black heels glistened in the daylight sun rays.

They clashed at mid-air with two well-known shining blades, held by a grinning and satisfied looking green-haired guy, a bandanna covering his head.

A subtle move and Zoro quickly managed to cut a bit of Sanji's black suit, right on the shoulder.

The blond smacked his lips very impatiently and stepped back:

- Don't you dare touch my suit! - growled with an amused tone.

Zoro replied with an open laughter and attacked again.

They jumped on the double-decker and kept sparring, legs versus swords, surrounding the helm.

- Ooooohi! Stay away from the helm, you crazy brooos!- called Franky from the crows-nest .

The two fighters didn't seem to notice their _nakama_ request.

Sanji spun and his kick caught slightly Zoro on the right side; the swordsman contracted his muscles, and the cook's attempt failed.

They were both strong but in different fields.

Sanji could hit Zoro, unlike most of the opponents who tried to challenge him, for he was as fast as light.

This made him really proud.

But the blonde knew that Zoro was definitely stronger; he relied on the lethality of his attacks. The green-haired had a non-human resistance and this was the best pairing for Sanji's fighting style.

After their two years of training, Sanji had fastened, jumping even higher, but Zoro had become even more precise and capable of ration out his power, not to waste it in useless battles.

Now Sanji tried again, skipping a swishing blade and hopping on it to smash Zoro from on high.

Zoro jerked but accused the kick on his chest, half parrying it with his left sword.

He replied at once with a brutal slash coming from the right.

Sanji flew away, the cut opened a sharp incision on his left leg but he practically avoided it.

Unfortunately, right behind them, the sunny-lion figurehead split up in two parts.

Sanji glanced Zoro's eyes and they froze at once.

A horrified scream came from the grassy deck.

Two rubber extendable arms popped out and tied around their bodies, dividing them apart.

- QUIT IT ALREADY! - shouted Luffy, the rest of his body now arriving.

- BUT…!- they tried together.

- ENOUGH! NOBODY TOUCHES MY SUNNY-LION!-

Luffy seemed really upset…well, the lion-head was his precious spot, after all.

- Who started this?- asked the Captain quietly.

- HIM!- replied them together, each one pointing in the other's direction.

Some smoke puffed from Luffy's angry nostrils.

- You're my first mate and my cook! Couldn't ya play just like any others here?!-

- NO!- yelled Sanji.

- We're not playing!- protested Zoro, under Sanji's denial.

- I DON'T GIVE A DAMN! - imposed the Captain – NOW OFF YOU GO!- finished, throwing them on the lower deck without any formality.

They landed badly on the grass.

- Why won't they stop their crazy competitions? - asked a sunbathing Nami, shaking her head.

- Oh, my dear, I have quite the opinion on that!- smiled mildly a book-reading Robin.

Nami turned to Robin with a puzzled look.

Meanwhile, Zoro and Sanji stood up shaking off their clothes to clean them.

They looked slowly at each other with a rather complicit glance.

Zoro grinned looking away while Sanji laughed openly:

- God, we really pissed him off!-

The swordsman nodded briefly, the prankster attitude in his expression.

Then he suddenly got closer to the cook.

He looked sternly at his face:

- So…is your leg bleeding, stupid curly-boy?- asked, sounding a bit concerned.

Sanji temples crumpled:

- Then what? – Said, looking casually at his light wound – I've been worse!-

The blonde lifted up his head and caught Zoro's eyes.

They were strangely indulgent.

- It's not that you're worrying for me, right you moronic _marimo_?- asked Sanji.

Zoro turned a little away and crossed his arms, the usual unreadable look back on his slightly pink face:

- Shut the fuck up!-

Sanji's mouth snapped with disappointment.

He took a cigarette and lit it up.

- I'll kick your ass to death if I find out that you're going soft on me.-

Zoro's shoulder slightly tilted.

- 'Cause I'm not going to, asshole!- he finished, spitting on the grass e blowing out smoke.

The other remained still.

- Say something, _moss-ball head_!- raged Sanji.

Zoro looked at him like a bothered parent would do with an annoying child.

- Like you're important enough to deserve my killing-hands!-

He sighed out of patience and took abruptly Sanji's forearm.

- Come with me, idiot.-

Sanji followed, a little taken aback.

- Always too much fuss! – added the green-headed – And let me see that cut!-

Sanji's struggled a bit against Zoro's grip but he let him lead the way to the infirmary.

- Shouldn't we call Chopper? – asked the cook.

- No. It's a silly scratch, plus I don't think you want to hear him scolding you!- answered the swordsman, confident in his behavior.

- Oh, hell, no!-

- Then quit complaining, dumbass.-

Zoro entered the room and immediately reached for the sink, washing his hands properly.

Then he took some gauze and rapidly dipped it in the antiseptic medicament Chopper always used on him.

- You're pretty accustomed to this stuff…- commented at once Sanji, ironically.

Zoro gave back a similar smirk, as to say: "Ah, if only my poor flesh could talk…"

Then he curved on his _nakama_ and pressed the gauze on Sanji's external tight, ripping a little the fabric all around the cut.

- Hey, slow down, you'll ruin my pants!- protested at once the cook.

- Oh shut up, will you? You've got thousands of them and all identical!- Snapped Zoro, checking the cut.

- Asshole!-

- Yeah…yeah...– confirmed the swordsman distractedly and then, as if he was talking mostly to himself, he added – well, it's bleeding a lot but only because it's an external blade-caused wound…-

- What are you babbling about, dumb-_marimo_? How do you know this is the right medicine? You're not even the half of a fake doctor!- moaned Sanji, enduring the burning sensation of the injury without difficulties.

- Surely I'm not – confirmed jokily Zoro, still crouched near Sanji seated legs – by I spent the last two years watching that Perona-girl tending my daily cuts. I may not be a doctor but I do know what I'm dealing with here, man!-

- Yeah, whatever…- Sanji's eyes rolled.

Zoro stood up, took another portion of gauze and pressed gently on Sanji's leg, this time without bending.

He lifted his eyes and found himself directly in Sanji's ones.

The cook moved a little uncomfortably on his position, unable to break that intolerable eye contact.

Then he became suddenly aware of the warmth of Zoro's hand on his tight and his stomach brutally flipped upside down.

His cheeks went violently red.

He hated himself and that self-unconscious green-moron.

- Still, you're being too kind, asshole...- he mumbled, looking away.

Zoro instantly stiffened and hurried his hands away from the blonde.

He handed him the gauze observing the exit door a little too intensely:

- Well, as I said it's nothing, you only have to push the gauze a bit to stop the bleeding…- he grumbled, physically distancing from Sanji.

Sanji accepted the medicament little package and put it over his cut, jumping off the bed.

- I've got to go. There's a hungry crew waiting for me in few hours…-

Sanji strolled to exit from the infirmary and Zoro followed him.

The swordsman relaxed and the usual canny smirk colored his expression again:

- Oi, I deserve a special treat, crap-cook!-

Sanji kept walking:

- What?! Why?! I never asked you to tend my wound!- he protested.

- Oh, I'm not talking about the cut. I'm talking about the fact that I clearly defeated you!- said Zoro, very pleased with his quick-remark, the uneasy exchange already forgotten.

- You dumbass bastard…- Sanji shook his head, ready to remark his refuse to cooperate.

- Yeah, I'm a bastard, but you're wounded and I'm not. So, who's the winner?- teased Zoro with a triumphant look on his face.

- You…YOU…- began Sanji, eyes wide opened – you shitty…-

- Yes I totally am!- laughed mockingly the swordsman.

While the cook started to curse his green-headed plague, they entered the galley.

Together, again.

At the same time, two women were enjoying the last bits of their sunbathing, praising silently the peaceful sky after the brutal tempest of the past days.

They had watched their two crew mates arguing and entering the kitchen.

- Well, Robin-chan…I am not sure…- started the redheaded girl of the twos, her chin rested pensively on the palm of her hand.

- I know, it seems a bit messed up, Nami-chan, but I'm almost certain, now.- stated the other one, some raven-black long strands decorating her elegant figure.

- Uh, at least it couldn't be worse than it's always been!- remarked Nami.

- Let's just see what happens next…fufufufu…- giggled Robin, with her typical indecipherable laugh.

- Yet it feels so bizarre…- reprised Nami.

In the distance, the line of the horizon was now burning aggressively in red and yellow.

The sun was going down, slowly embracing his tender bed of clouds.

The ocean was flat except for a pleasant wind touch caressing the golden and watery-blue surface.

|||||||||||||/|||||||||||||||\\\\\\\\\\\

Frankly, this was becoming awfully awkward.

Sometimes even embarrassing.

Sanji was sick and tired of his constant reddening whenever the green-haired jerk was around, he was near him or was touching him, willingly or not.

And now he also had the straight sensation the idiot was fully aware of his little-big secret, after their first pre-dinner together.

This frazzled the cook a lot, for he wasn't sure of his movements anymore.

He could feel it in the way Zoro had started to soften the pressure of his blows during their clashes.

Sanji's proud was really shocked at this behavior: he didn't want to be treated as a weakling.

Above all, he despised being commiserated.

Oh, the poor cook-in-love who doesn't know how to deal with his luscious crush for the tempting _marimo_ idiot!

Hell, no!

He didn't ask anything, he didn't want anything.

So under his usual reactions concerning Zoro's presence, sometimes he started to feel anger.

He would have liked not to feel involved whenever the swordsman was around, but he simply could not resist.

And he always melted when the moron acted kindly for him, the bronzed _pan_ of his face curiously becoming rather charming.

Ok, to be honest he found it excruciatingly handsome…

Every time he would only sadistically blush like a cooing high school girl.

What a miserable view!

Sanji sighed tiredly.

He really didn't know where this crazy train was leading him.

And that imbecile, oh, again and again, kept being all gentle and cautious, when he wasn't too busy to be friendly and clearly eager to be in his company.

Had the dumb green tiger been eventually tamed?

Sanji simply couldn't think straight.

He sped up with the dinner preparation, upset but still enjoying the slow art of "raising" a mushroom _risotto._

The fumes of sauté herbs and garlic mixed abundantly in the air, along with the strong hypnotic scent of the fresh-cut parsley.

He prepared the base reduction simmering it with an exquisite white wine, cherry wood and undergrowth rich aftertaste, and maybe a bit too expensive to be used in a _risotto_ (but still an inspiring choice, Sanji said to himself, really priding his own capacities).

All the concerns slowly drifted away from him and, without noticing it, he switched to his good-mood mode, whistling and dancing a little.

Cooking had this holy consequence to him.

He busied himself with his enormous griddles, oiling them with a truffle-flavored oil.

The surface began soon to fry and he disposed inside it his huge spits full of meat different cuts, sausage chunks and pepper-bellies' squares.

He added the final touch seasoning the meat with rosemary branches and laurel leaves.

He simply loved those godly fumes!

The dinnertime was approaching so he took three gigantic oiled casseroles and stuffed them with thick chopped potatoes; he added all the herbs and a handful of garlic, then completed it with the right amount of salt and a sprinkle of black-pepper.

When he placed the potatoes in the oven, he moved away the big-sized hazelnut and cream pie, to let it become colder and more enjoyable in the taste.

This was a pretty classic dinner, from the main course to the dessert, but Sanji really felt himself refreshed.

Simple and granny-like things always got the best out of him!

When the _Mugiwaras_ entered the kitchen, he almost felt like the most talented chef in the world.

Their expressions were simply enraptured: they had found an exceptionally well-dressed table, bottles of precious wine and elegant handkerchiefs all over.

Sanji knew the perfume was simply superb, too.

- WOAH! Sanji-bro! That's wonderful-yo!- exclaimed Franky.

- A delight for the eyesight! Or, in my case I should say "A delight for my eye sockets"! Yohohohoho, skull jooookeeeee!- laughed Brooke while he took his seat and tuned his violin to please Luffy's dinner.

- Oh, that's a table for the King of the Pirates!- said an excited looking Usopp.

- I'm so hungryyyyyy! Where's my meat?- commented the so hypothetical over said King of the Pirates.

- Yuuhuuu! I can smell sweet too!- squeaked the happy little Chopper.

- What's the occasion, Sanji-kun?- asked his beloved Nami, for once involuntary innocent.

Then, at the same time, curiously, Zoro clearly tittered, Robin showed a bit of her sickening little laughing and he jolted a bit irate.

- NOTHING!- jumped, and then, watching his precious Nami-chan a bit confused expression, he added:

- Oh, my sweeeeeet Nami-swaaaan! But obviously this is a feast for the beauties of the Sunny!-

Again, at the same time, curiously, Zoro almost chocked, Robin giggled even more loudly and devilishly and he stormed away to prepare the food trays, the back of his ears visibly full-red…

The blonde felt that the delicious meal was long and pleasant, except for the menacing aura Zoro was emanating when he got near him for some reason.

The _marimo _seemed crossed and this affected the cook a lot.

He didn't mean to be cruel with the swordsman…after all he really outdid himself only for him to be pleased!

Zoro's face became even more pissed off when, the others slowly disappearing, Sanji sentenced:

- Oi, _marimo_ shit-head!-

- What!- snapped Zoro, the hands on his swords, his feet ready to bring him away from the galley.

- Where do you think you're going?- asked Sanji without waiting for an answer.

- You've got to help me with the dishwashing!- declared tonelessly.

He really sounded an asshole to his own hears but he didn't know exactly what to do.

Zoro snorted very angrily and darted Sanji a deathly look.

He removed carefully his swords, placing them on the couch near the table, and rolled up his sleeves.

Then, when the galley was empty (except for the two of them), they began their duty silently.

Sanji was done with the stroppy atmosphere so, when the last fork's steel was shining again, he lit up a cigarette and caught Zoro's livid eye.

- Stop sulking, you idiotic _marimo!-_

- I'm not sulking, you bastard!- growled the swordsman in a very low voice.

- Well, I suppose you now had enough of duties…- began a very sneering Sanji.

- You..YOU PIECE OF…- started Zoro, clearly thinking that Sanji's only intent was to drive him mad to the bones.

So Sanji preceded him and affirmed:

- Because I promised to treat you and so I will!-

Zoro seemed struck by the offer, to Sanji's great satisfaction.

The blonde went to the pantry and slowly began to fill the kitchen table with countless and colorful bottles.

- We drank wine at dinner, so I don't know if we should go with _sake,_ but it's up to your taste…-

Zoro stood unmoving for a moment then he smiled openly:

- You crazy sonofa…- but there was no rage no more in his voice and Sanji's heart literally felt joyful.

- You said you won over me and I agreed you deserved a special treat! – grinned Sanji – and this time I'm drinking with you.-

- Shishishishi…God, you totally won't keep it up!- laughed Zoro.

- We'll see! Then, what do you want to go for?- asked Sanji.

He picked two mugs opening the flap over the kitchen stove and handed them to Zoro, who exclaimed:

- Let's follow the crappy-cook advice…I say wine!-

And with this, Sanji saw a satisfied himself taking a seat on the couch near a very cheerful Zoro.

The swordsman filled in their mugs and they started consuming high-class wine like it was cheaper tap water.

In a state of growing alcoholic bliss, Sanji heard himself betting on things of a rare stupidity and laughing at very serious matters.

As the night rolled over their sacrosanct bullshits and their solemn blurry toasts, Sanji's head hastily went lighter and lighter.

The food on his stomach magically disappeared and he felt his limbs floating like he was bobbing on some strange lava surface.

He mechanically recorded that Zoro's iris was now brighter, his eyelid surely heavier.

So his companion was finally getting visibly drunk, after having caned most of his pantry best alcoholic reserve.

But while he seemed still able to control his body, his temper only a little altered, Sanji was already knocked out.

He simply was not used to heavy drinking…

He laughed again, Zoro was now trying to mimic Robin wicked little chuckles, and he found himself thinking something like "_It takes an ocean to get the dull green tiger drunk_!".

- Fiufiufiufiufiufiu…- clumsily tried again Zoro, his fingers covering his mouth.

- Uohohohohoohohoh…oohoh…oh, you've got it sohohoh wronhohohhong!- commented Sanji.

- Oh, no, you knowohohohooh…you know she does it this wayihihihihihihih…-

Zoro clashed again his mugs on Sanji's and shot all the wine down his throat.

Sanji's hand trembled and he put his mug down.

- Oh…oh…I really am done…!-

His head began whirling like a crazy spinning-top and the entrance of his stomach lurched dangerously.

He bent forward until a big, warm hand seized him and made him stretch his back over the couch seatback.

- Oi, ooooi, shitty-cook…are you giving in? I'm not even halfway through!-

- You ruddy ape, I'm not a green dull tiger, I can't take it anymore…- said Sanji, breathing heavily.

He heard Zoro's soft snigger.

- A what?-

Then the cook closed his eyes:

- Uh…nothing…leave it be…-

He heard again Zoro's voice, suddenly semi-sober and more than a bit concerned.

_Again_ – he thought – _again this idiot is worrying for me!_

Hi pressed his fingertips on his eyeballs.

- Oi, curly-boy, if you have to barf, I'll back you up, just say it…-

- How gross!- he snarled.

- It's what it his, Prince of Dumbass Kingdom! Just say it and I'll help!- replied Zoro, who always talked with no mince words.

- Thanks _marimo_…- Sanji said, with a feeble voice, his second or third inner self beaming with joy for the unhoped-for close contact.

Then a heating shiver crisscrossed through his skin as Zoro's strong arm collected his own shoulders, almost choking him to death with the surprise.

_Wh…what…what..the he-ll…_quivered his confused mind.

- How're you feeling cook?-

- N-now better…- he said, no filter in his tongue.

And to his massive bewilderment, Zoro leant against him and hugged him like it was the end of the world.

Sanji forgot his sickness at once, his heart pounding crazily on his chest.

Zoro's chest was exposed, and Sanji could clearly perceive the bright, sandy perfume of his skin.

He felt like he couldn't breathe anymore…

He opened his eyes, gasping in the air, just in time to see Zoro's flushed face diving in his own hair.

- Say, is it really better if I hold you like this?-

Sanji's face was now on fire.

Zoro's touch was ridiculously gentle for the muscular body he had.

But under the fabric of his clothes he felt the pure firmness in his fingertips.

It was pure ecstasy.

Then he distinctively perceived Zoro's nose and lips on his hear and cheekbone.

He could not suppress a quivering, heavy sigh.

- Aaaahhhh…-

It was not easily mistakable: it held all his nervousness, his excitement and his longing.

- I take it as a confirmation, moaning-cook…- muttered Zoro, his voice muffled by Sanji's hair.

Zoro's voice caressed his ear and Sanji felt eventually overcome.

|||||||||||||/|||||||||||||||\\\\\\\\\\\

Zoro had spent more or less the last hour holding like mad onto Sanji.

Zoro's back was now leaning against the couch setback and the cook was slightly dozing off in his shoulder, hugging him back without restraints.

That had been a very serious booze-time.

One of his best, if he had to admit it.

But he had been affected, this wine wasn't his thing for sure, he tolerated _sake_ better.

He felt a little less confused and a bit refreshed.

Still his mind was running wild, though, and his thoughts were gnarled by alcohol.

_What's with the green dull tiger?_

He kept repeating himself, Sanji's drunken voice echoing in his mind.

Then the cook lightly lifted his head, weakening their hug.

- What's up, _blondie_?- let it slip Zoro, not sure if he was only thinking or actually speaking.

- Who's a blondie, you shitasshhhh…- Sanji didn't finish and went back to his shoulder.

- How're you, _blondie?-_ asked softly Zoro.

- Mmmh…not good…not b…-

The man on his side tensed a little.

- Quit your moronic "_blondie_" thing, bastard!- hissed in his bare shoulder, practically biting it.

- Waiiii…don't bite!- laughed Zoro, nearly with a puerile, childish tone - YOU shut up, _blondie_! A _blondie _like you has to do as I please!-

- You're completely gone…- commented briefly Sanji as Zoro caught him trying to free himself from his embrace.

- Man, you're such a pain in the ass…- laughed the swordsman again.

He grasped a puzzle-looking Sanji, swapped his position and rested on the couch completely.

The swordsman held he cook on top, like he was used to do when he napped with Chopper.

His eyes closed, Zoro felt Sanji struggling again and strengthen his clutch.

- Will you please stop striving, you moaning-cook?-

Sanji moved again over him, simply unable to rest on his chest.

- I'll kill you...I'll kick your ass 'til you're dead, I swear…- he muttered weakly, his mouth pressed on Zoro's collar bones.

- Watch your mouth…you're a bit ill-mannered, _blondie_!-

Sanji struggled again and suddenly broke through Zoro's crossed arms.

The green-haired saw the silky head rising up to reach his eyesight.

- I swear tomorrow I'll kil…-

- Please… - interrupted Zoro, intercepting Sanji with a very honest longing look.

After all, he only wanted to cuddle up a little…

Zoro's eyes were imploring and as sweet as hell; soon he saw Sanji's arguing desire flying away.

The blonde tossed himself unceremoniously on him, again hugging him back.

Zoro rolled and let the two of them slip more comfortably on their sides.

- You…you…asshole…- murmured the cook, arranging in his new position – What's up with those twisted shitty puppy-eyes?!-

Zoro laughed hard and heavily inhaled Sanji's odor, diving again in the hair he loved so much.

- You smell like mushrooms and those yummy herbs you always use…-

Sanji seemed amused:

- Well, you know, I spent hours cooking something like the best dinner ever only to please a shitty _marimo_-tiger!-

- So I AM the tiger!- replied Zoro, feeling Sanji's rejecting tug.

The cook stared back at him with a kind of "oh-please-c'mon!" look.

- Yes, yes, I heard. You cooked for me. I know.-

- I-ohfuckthisimpossiblejerk-I cooked for you? – exclaimed Sanji incredulous – Is that all you have to say?!-

Zoro caressed blatantly Sanji's jaw, his neck, and then went back to his forehead.

The other trembled, completely affected by his touch.

- Oi, always with this damned _queen bee _attitude…!- murmured Zoro, his voice dropping a little.

- Oh! Now's the queen b-ohthisimpossiblefucktardaga…-

Under his plume-like touch, now stroking gently his head, Zoro saw Sanji dropping his non-sense talk.

The cook shivered again, this time lingering against Zoro's hand and closing intensely his eyes.

- Shut up, _blondie_ – purred Zoro again near the cook's ear – You know your food is fuckin' delicious, quit wanting my approval…-

Sanji completely abandoned himself on the swordsman warm embrace, finally gaining the confession he had always yearned for.

Zoro knew how important this was for the other, for he never displayed any of this drunken shit for the cook.

- You're so stubborn sometimes…- whispered Sanji in his ear

- You can be a total asshole, too…– said Zoro, cupping Sanji's face and pulling it towards him - …but, God, you're so beautiful…-

The green-haired submerged his glance into the blonde's now wide eyes.

Zoro rested his forehead on Sanji's one, causing a violent reddening on the cook's cheeks.

Then the swordsman confessed:

- Sometimes I can't even look at you…you're…you're too much…-

Their nose-tips were now casually brushing; Zoro began willingly stroking his against Sanji's, provoking him to rattle.

- Th…this…is a bit…t-too muc-h…y-you're d-d-d-drunk…- stuttered the cook.

Zoro thought he was lovely, so shy, his voice so uncertain…and so irresistibly blushing…

- Shush…_blondie_…-

He pressed again his head on the other's one and closed his eyes, suppressing his urge to kiss him.

A powerful, shouting drive to grasp him and wreck his thin, untouched lips, until he could see a strawberry-red shade on them…

He pressed even more against Sanji, FEELING every inch of his perfect body.

- Shush and sleep, now…- hissed then, heroically ignoring his own mind's protests.

Renewing his tightening embrace, he squeezed Sanji not to let the warmth of their bodies fly away.

Sanji went silent almost immediately and eventually Zoro managed to sleep, his will opposing against the decision not to ASSAULT his lovely _blondie._

* * *

Well, I'm sorry.

I don't know why I always begin with a little idea and a faithful mantra " I will do something short, I will do something short"…and I always end up with a flowing stream of words…

…It seems "short" isn't exactly my word!

The first chapter so brief, this one so full of things.

Will you excuse me for this annoying gap?

*bows*

I really appreciated your comments and I thank you.

I'm not updating this for the next few days, due to my duties.

But I really want to finish this, so don't worry, I never leave my words alone.

I hoped you enjoyed.

Only two notes:

P.S. I know I like the classical scenarios, the couch, the galley, the wine…but I really can't stick into strange facts narration. I'm the "slice of life" type, after all. I honestly loved Zoro here and his intense behavior. It reminds me of my special person, always so stern and direct ^.^ And lastly: Zoro's eyes just like Shrek's cat…God, now I can die :D!

P.P.S* I couldn't avoid the cooking paragraph, 'cause I really am into it and I could not pretend to fake recipes or steps. "Risotto" is a typical north-Italian dish; the main ingredient is clearly rice. When one cooks it, he has to let the rice boil in a subtle layer of seasoning and vegetable/meat broth. This must be done in in a pan (not a pot) and while the rice absorbs the seasoned boiling layer of water, one has to keep adding it until the cooking time arrives. This method is called "the rising up of the rice" (in Italian: "tirare su il riso") So basically you can use this process for every kind of "_risotto_": when setting the pan, one has to put in a "circle" of oil (or butter, depending on the ingredients) and the other chosen ingredients (for example, asparagus and sausage; cheese, walnuts and radicchio; zucchini, béchamel and onions; and so on…), then add the broth and "rise" the rice slowly. It is recommended the use of a certain kind of rice, the "vialone nano" , the "baldo", the "roma" or the "carnaroli" one. It is delicious, enjoy! ^.^

Bye bye!

-yuki


	5. 5-Sparkle

**_Sparkle _**

Outside the galley's dim-lighted walls, a bright day was already cracking in the cotton candy sky.

Zoro buttered the little pan and let it fry with a low heat.

He added a thick layer of pancake-preparation he had luckily found in the fridge.

Good thing that he didn't have to set up the preparation himself, because he knew the ingredients but he totally ignored the proportions.

That damned cook knew his job…all well-organized and always ready-to-go!

He let the current pancake cook better than the last one, which awkwardly laid cold-abandoned on a plate…_fuck_, it was so difficult!

The swordsman could not believe he was actually struggling on his improvised cooking task.

To think that he always considered this pretty easy!  
But now he had some internal expectations not to let down…

Hadn't he decided to replace the curly-boy, today?

So, he could not fail: he had to feed his wolf-like crew mates at all costs.

He breathed, his expression frowning in strong concentration.

This time the pancake under his sight seemed good enough: he let it slip on the final plate.

Then, another spoonful of cream-colored mixture (this time the very right amount) flew in the buttered pan.

His hands busy, Zoro thought about Sanji again, like he had done for the last few hours.

After all, it was his fault if the cook now was heavily sleeping with abominable hangovers.

He knew the blonde wasn't able to keep it up with his own alcoholic resistance and he should have stopped him sooner.

Pancake after pancake, the swordsman kept revisiting his last night vivid images.

He had been drunk, too, but not enough to forget the cook's profile against his body or his scent, his warm skin and his soft hair.

Now he was fluctuating from a swirling vortex to another, tongue-tied, his stomach bubbling senselessly and his head spinning a little.

He was pretty sure the sobering up had very little to do with all this.

With his enormous astonishment, in fact, he had realized these magnified effects he felt were caused by none other than Sanji.

Him.

The Cook.

That…that Dartboard-Eyebrow freak...

Zoro felt his skin burning again and again.

Because that idiot had seemed totally confident in his arms, even if a bit shy (more than unwilling).

The _blondie_ wanted to be touched.

He _moaned, _God, Zoro could explode at the sound of that longing voice.

He absolutely wanted – no – he had to touch!

There's was no surprise in all this because for far too long under his toned skin had layered a ton of unbearable desire.

Scents, skins, heat, mixed up all together in an intolerable squirming urge.

His body had never spoken so clearly and eagerly and he was determined not to let it down.

He laughed a bit sickly and hurried, preparing all it was needed for the breakfast.

Three enormous pancake towers were carried to the table, together with butter, marmalade, orange juice and all the plates, knives and forks.

Then he arranged the glasses and the handkerchiefs, feeling awkwardly exhausted.

He was sleep-deprived, in fact, for after staying on the couch with Sanji for a couple of hours, he had awakened, back to the "real world".

_Zoro woke up abruptly_, _dreaming of a disintegrating stairway he was running on…_

_He gained control really slowly, his body as heavy as stone and his furry tongue completely glued._

_A horrible, piercing headache struck him at once; he felt unpleasant with the lying position and he sensed the urge to stand straight._

_He was thirsty like hell…_

_In that precise moment, he also felt an unknown weight resting on him._

_What the…?_

_He tried to use his healthy eye and caught a blurry and waxy profile under a blonde mass of hair._

_The sleeping-cook was pressed against his chest, full-asleep._

_Zoro was confused._

_What…?The cook…?!_

_He silently cursed himself for the odd situation._

_Then he remembered their wine challenge-like time._

_Their cuddling…_

_The term "blondie" began echoing devilishly in his brain._

_He recollected his embarrassing moves on the cook and the realization gave him a quivering vertigo. _

_Zoro looked at Sanji, who seemed half happy and half sick. _

_He felt again the growing need to kiss him but soon the nausea lingering in his stomach prevailed._

_Zoro stood up, paying attention not to wake up the crap-cook, who rolled on his other side, totally unaware._

_Then the green-headed went to the kitchen sink and washed carefully his face and the back of his neck with frozen water._

_Breathing very hard and slowly feeling refreshed, he gulped down four glasses of water._

_He relaxed a bit leaning against the kitchen counter for some seconds._

_The whole thing seemed a bit twisted, but still too good to be true. _

_He had baldly exposed the strong attraction he had for that damned shitty fool and now there was no point of turning back. _

_Touching him and holding him tight had helped Zoro to clarify his own feelings and he was not one to chicken out._

_He would eventually take the responsibilities of his unmistakable actions. _

_He fell for the love-cook…and he wasn't even regretting it!_

_The other idiot, too, had seemed pleasantly involved, but this meant anything to Zoro, who felt instintively afraid of the blonde's judgment. _

_Turning around, Zoro saw the cook himself on the couch, pale, greenish, a little trembling._

_The poor lad started moaning and moving._

_He was clearly sick and Zoro took his decision at once._

_The swordsman got near him, gently caressed his forehead and then took his entire body, lifting it up and carrying it like it was a mass of plumes._

_The blonde barely reacted to the movement and muttered, opening his puffy eyes._

_- Marimo…- he said with a feeble voice._

_Zoro smiled faintly and looked back at him:_

_- Sleep, cook…don't worry…-_

_Sanji shut his eyes, clearly unable to stay conscious, and abandoned himself in Zoro's embrace._

_The green-headed carried very silently the blonde in the men's quarters, paying attention not to wake up the others._

_Then he leant Sanji's sleeping body to one of the hanging bad-hammocks. _

_Blind in the dark, he carefully took his suit and his shoes away, then moved the slender body in a comfortable sleeping position. The cook hummed pleasantly and Zoro covered him with a blanket._

_He caught a glimpse of the fair skin gleaming over a toned body…He couldn't help it: he reached out and touched that handsome face._

_A heating sparkle started flashing somewhere inside him._

_He caressed Sanji's skin, leaning over his treasured owner, and then he laid a tender kiss on his cheekbone._

_In that moment, Usopp-the-idiot let go an ungraceful snort and Zoro jumped away from Sanji, feeling like he had been caught doing something really nasty._

_But his crew mate simply changed his sleeping position and no sign of life came from the others._

_Zoro sighed, feeling his nausea come and go._

_Then he went back to the galley, glancing distractedly at the gleeful sunrise that was filling the air._

_Alone in the kitchen, he decided he had to take charge of the Mugiwaras meals given the idiot-cook's defection._

- Zoro? Where's Sanji?- asked a very perplexed Nami to the swordsman, entering in the galley along with Robin.

Zoro turned back to them while mopping the stove surface.

He stared a bit and then turned back to his occupation.

- Bro, you look awful!- said Franky, followed by the others.

Luffy yawned and asked hungrily for a curious meat-based breakfast.

- Shut up, you bottomless-pit! You'll eat normally just like everybody else!-

- But Zoro, I WANT MY MEAAAAT! And where's Sanji?!-

- I will be in charge of the meal, only for today,. The cook is sleeping.- declared tonelessly Zoro, putting the coffee jar on the table.

He avoided carefully his companions' eyes: he felt the whole situation was odd, not to mention his puzzled ideas and his growing anxiety, both for Sanji and his cooking assignment.

- Oh! Is he sick?- questioned slightly professionally Chopper.

Zoro smiled weakly and patted gently the little reindeer's head.

- Nope. Yesterday I challenged him and we drank too much. Now he's only wasted.-

- Oh…you look sick too, Zoro. Did you sleep?- asked again Chopper, caring and tender.

- Yeah, yeah, now sit down, it's breakfast time.- said Zoro, who hadn't sleep at all but didn't want to be lectured or pitied.

The _Mugiwaras _sat at the messy table and an awkward silence fell.

- Let's dig in.- said quietly Robin, sounding creepily at ease.

- Mmmmh…- began Usopp, sounding doubtful – Is this stuff even edible?- he asked, poking the pancakes with his forks.

They seemed a bit too sticky.

Zoro grunted and shot him a hostile glance.

Usopp withdrew his hesitations while Nami talked again:

- Let's hope your cooking skills are passable!-

- Surely better than yours.- growled the swordsman, putting on his aggressive attitude.

She hesitated than grinned back:

- Oh, hell – she exclaimed abruptly – it can't be as horrible as my last cooking attempt! _Itadakimasu!_-

And she attacked her food very impatiently.

Nami let go a pleasured hum:

- Wow!This is good!-

Zoro looked away.

- It's not bad at all!- exclaimed a cheerful Robin while the swordsman looked clearly embarrassed:

- Yeah, whatever…-

But Chopper was faster and took innocently Zoro off guard:

- Ah, so that's why you're spending so much time with Sanji!He's teaching you!-

The swordsman stood up, his ears brightly pink:

- NO IT'S NOT…it's just that…nothing-

He saw Robin smirking openly while Chopper looked a bit puzzled.

- Never mind.- then he practically ran away, pretending to busy himself with something in the sink.

So, after all they DID notice their closeness.

Well, it wasn't exactly like they were hiding…Oi, as if they had something to hide!

_Absolutely nothing…'cause EVERYTHING has still to come...  
_He shivered ad that single thought.

_He was with me on that couch…I want to…I have to tell him…_

Zoro felt very tired and painfully impatient all at once, torn between the triumph of his new discover and the fear of the unknown consequences.

_I have to talk to the cook…Why the fuck he's still sleeping?_

He snapped his tongue disappointedly and came back to the table.

Though he tried to eat something, he could only stare at his plate, waiting for the other to finish their food.

He drank as much juice as he could, in the attempt to rip away the awful feeling stuck in his mouth.

He sighed for the millionth time and smashed his face on his palms, rubbing his eyes hard.

Could had he been able to stand this thing for the whole day?

To think they were still having breakfast…

When he let his glance wandering freely over the room, Robin caught it and shared with him a rather eloquent look.

Zoro felt practically naked in front of her and he blushed again.

- Fufufufufufu…- briefly sneered the woman.

- What's so funny, Robin?- asked her very curious Captain.

Zoro titled again in his seat, thinking that Robin was really having too much fun with her teasing.

- Oh, nothing special, just thinking…- and she rested her chin on her palm and stared at Zoro again.

Luffy seemed disinterested and attacked again his food, gulping the entire remaining one on his plate with one very sounding "_glomp_".

After fifteen minutes or so, the _Mugiwaras_ soon began to leave the kitchen, their belly al well-stuffed with food, the happy ringing of Brook's violin tunes following them in the open air.

It was a bright and sunny day…

- Mind if I help you?- asked Robin, stepping aside from the others.

Zoro looked at her while taking the plates away from the table.

He shrugged his shoulders, as to say "_Do what you want_", so the woman decided to remain in the galley to help him.

She really was helpful and Zoro asked himself why that idiot cook never let her do anything: she scrubbed pans and forks very carefully, smoothing his job a little.

Working silently side by side, suddenly Zoro felt her silence growing unpleasantly.

Robin did not speak at all but that peculiar smirk curled silently her lips and Zoro could not ignore it.

And he eventually gave up.

- FINE! – He stated, throwing the soaped knives in the sink and looking directly at her – What do you want?-

- Pardon?- asked Robin with a placid, false-perplexed tone.

Zoro rested his fist on his hips and turned completely to her.

- Cut it out, I'm not THAT dumb.-

Robin stopped her soaped hands and widely smiled, her mouth still holding a glimpse of a sinister, tricky blaze.

- You know – She started, very carefully - I was wondering if the two of yo-

- Not yet…- Zoro cut her words, answering automatically.

- Oh…- Robin's mouth was now stuck in a little, eloquent "o".

Zoro realized he had made a very heavy confession, without even thinking.

First: he had confirmed all the suspects about his particular attraction.

Second: he had confirmed his clear intention to fulfill his desires.

- …FUCK.- He slammed his face with his right hand.

- Fufufufu…don't worry, I'll keep the secret.-

- I don't understand. Why are you so interested if you don't want anything in return?-

- Well, I like stories and intrigues. I don't need to win anything over your love issues, except the pleasures of a good plot.-

- This is not a book. This is my fuckin' life.-

- I wonder how your love will eventually sprout…- commented thoughtfully the woman, rhythmically tapping her fingertips on her pointed chin.

- I don't think this concerns you.- the swordsman put his balled hands on his flanks and tried to sound menacing…

But Robin seemed not to notice him and kept imagining things on her own:

- Well, it's obvious that you're more masculine but I wonder…-

- Get off my back…-

-…if you'll be on top or ma-

- I SAID, NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!- shouted Zoro, clearly steaming and embarrassed.

- Now, OUT!- he said to a speechless but amused Robin.

- As you want…fufufufufu..-

And floating away like a ghostly presence, the woman left the galley.

Still fuming (and trying to scratch away from his mind some dirty hints suggested by Robin), Zoro took his three swords and tried to think about some intense neck-cracking exercises.

I know, I know...I disappeared.

But I've been through a lot and now that I'm still here I will continue.

I have at least 3 more stories to translate and 3 more to write...I won't let you (an me) down.

This is a bit shorter than I expected but I needed it to be this way: I lost the chapters I wrote during a very untidy PC summer session and I had to rewrite all from the very start.

Well, stay tuned, chapter 6 is arriving soon.

bye!

-yuki-


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